A Bird in the Hand
by KarotsaMused
Summary: Set during episode 19, Lobelia Girls' Academy Strikes Back! Tamaki loses at kiss chicken, with perspective-altering results. Not at all serious Daddy on Daddy.


A/N: Set in episode 19, Lobelia Girls' Academy Strikes Back!

Remember how, when they're all in Haruhi's apartment talking to Ranka, there's a moment where Ranka and Tamaki have a staredown? It's totally kiss chicken, and Tamaki loses, but Ranka gets a faceful of floor for being the victor.

In this one, Tamaki doesn't lose. If you want this one continued, you're going to have to help me with where it goes, because like everybody in my personal peanut gallery is flipping out. That said, enjoy!

* * *

><p>"And just what, exactly, goes on in this Host Club of yours?"<p>

Tamaki smiled his best smile and leaned forward, maintaining eye contact. The trick was to maintain eye contact. Liars looked away. Cheats were furtive. But the innocent always gazed directly at their conversational partners.

That was what made Kyouya such a good liar. He knew about eye contact, and consciously maintained it.

Tamaki, simply, never lied.

"Why, nothing a loving father would object to!" said Tamaki, leaning further still.

Ranka bent down to him, glaring daggers, staring right into Tamaki's eyes.

It is said that the eyes are the windows to the soul. Ranka's, dark brown, were obscure, impenetrable. Tamaki's, violet and clear, the quintessential limpid pools, gave away his earnestness, his nerves. And, as Tamaki's reflexes failed him as first their noses brushed, then their lips, his utter shock.

Ranka tasted like sleep-breath, and sugar, and a little like strawberries. He'd been eating the sweets they'd brought, after all. His stubble had almost tickled.

Tamaki sat straight back, flushing deep red. "I. Um," he began, then fell silent.

"Aw, Boss," chorused the twins, each rummaging around in his wallet. They each counted out a few bills, and passed them directly to Kyouya.

Tamaki stuttered, "W-what's that fo -"

Ranka straightened, running a hand through his hair. "You use that beeswax balm, don't you? No wonder they're soft."

Kyouya counted the bills the twins had given him, then passed nearly all of the stack to Ranka. "Here. Your cut, my dear."

"Mm, Kyouya, thank you ever so." Ranka secreted the bills away. A rather impressive feat, given his state of dress, in pajamas with no visible pockets.

Tamaki gasped for air. "Wait. You were betting on whether or not I'd -"

Honey snuggled his rabbit, leaning on Mori. "Not all of us. Takashi and I had different opinions and we weren't going to bet against each other."

"No, we weren't," agreed Mori, though his cheeks had faintly pinked. Honey looked entirely too pleased with the outcome, himself.

"But, hold on! That's cruel and gambling is -"

"An innocent way for friends to engage in a little fortune-telling," said Kyouya smoothly, smiling. He readjusted the collar of his shirt, and though it hung low over his chest, he managed to give the impression of looking unseasonably warm. "Though you are still quite pink, Tamaki. I'm sure if you'd like to explore your new experimental phase, Ranka would be both a kind and experienced mentor."

Ranka gave Tamaki a smile that was, paradoxically, at once fatherly and utterly wicked. "If _that's_ the sort of club you run, I have no oppositions. And it's always healthy for boys to play when they're young."

"Truer words were never spoken," said Kyouya, and Ranka glowed under the sentiment.

"Bu- but. H-haruhi? Lobelia?" murmured Tamaki, withering.

"Ah, yes, well, of course. The time for games is over. Let me get changed and we'll take her back!" Ranka hopped up and flounced from the room, shutting himself modestly in the bedroom.

When he'd gone, Kyouya leaned down. Gently, he murmured, "Was that your first kiss?"

His response was a plaintive, "Mama." Tamaki looked fairly wretched.

Kyouya petted his hair, as one might a puppy's. "Well, now. You and Haruhi have yet another thing in common, don't you?"

Tamaki lifted his fingertips to his lips and rubbed them. Perhaps he was wiping the memory away. Perhaps he was cementing it. "Oh. Well, I. I suppose you might be right about that."

Still, it was lost on none of them that, as Ranka emerged, fully dressed and resplendent with crimson lips, Tamaki made a quiet, strangled little sound in the back of his throat.

The twins heard "Ranka."

Kyouya heard "Mama."

Mori and Honey heard "Oh, no."

Ranka heard the first keening of a newborn addict, pleading for another taste. He'd have to speak to Kyouya, later, about the terms of a new friendly wager.


End file.
